Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Incident at Windsor

As you may recall, Dolores professed herself a newly converted disciple of Love and Light after her extended stay at the Voluptuous Lotus Ashram and Casino in Eugene, Oregon. And she did seem softer around the edges–less inclined to sarcasm, more inclined to help with the laundry; and while not entirely teetotal, certainly more moderate in her drinking.

“Three days on one bottle of Stoli,” I said to Tom, “and yesterday she washed and ironed all the napkins without being asked. Maybe she really has changed.” He patted me indulgently on the head, much as he pats Augie, his mastiff, whenever Augie mistakes the fire hydrant on the corner for another, redder dog and tries to chase it away.

I know what you’re thinking. But if you remember any of my previous trips with Dolores, you will understand my urgent need to believe that this time would be different.

True, the ride over was pretty smooth, although the surly border guard at Heathrow insisted that Dolores was livestock and therefore subject to a long list of restrictions including quarantine. We waited nervously while she and several uniformed officials disappeared together into one of those Little Rooms. Five minutes and forty-three seconds later, she emerged with her hat slightly askew and a stamped passport.

Harry, of course, was agog and excited from the moment we stepped into the Heathrow Express to Paddington Station and started trying out his idiomatic British English on the other passengers.

“Hi,” he said to the guy across the aisle. “I mean, g’day. No, wait, that’s Australian. Um. Wait. Oh, yeah. View halloo, old sport! My mates and I have just popped across the pond and are most dreadfully peckish would love to find a jolly mess of crumpets. Where do you think we should go to get some?”

The man frowned and turned to the lady next to him, who was buried in a copy of Le Figaro. “Qu’est-ce qu’il a dit?” he hissed. There was a whispered conversation, and a bunch of shrugging; and then the man tossed Harry what turned out to be a two-pound coin and waved him away.

“Wow,” Harry said to me, admiring the golden profile of The Queen. “I like England. At home all I ever got on the subway was a pamphlet about how Jesus is coming and he’s in a bad mood. Who’s this pretty lady?”

“That’s Queen Elizabeth,” said Dolores. “She runs this place.”

“The whole train?” said Harry.

“The whole frigging sceptered isle,” sighed Dolores. “Plus the island next door. Lucky bitch.”

“Wow,” said Harry. “That’s a lot to be queen of.”

“She used to have a whole empire,” I said, “but some of it dropped off.”

“She’s a hoot,” said Dolores. “If we run into her I’ll introduce you.”

“Of course,” said Tom. “Of course you know The Queen.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” said Dolores. “She wrote me a fan letter once.”

“I’m not going to ask,” said Tom, looking out the window. “I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.”

“Last time I was over here I was working for the BBC,” Dolores said. “Years ago. I had a recurring role on The Archers. I played a well-to-do American sheep who comes to Ambridge searching for distant relations–real heartbreaking stuff. They appreciate high-class drama in this country.”

“Notice how I didn’t ask,” Tom said to me.

“Well, at the climax of the story line I had this knock-down drag-out fight with Jill Archer because Phil was going to leave her and run away with me to Natchez, Mississippi, so we could start a new life together as co-proprietors of a puppet theater.”

“Still not listening,” said Tom.

“Oh, I am,” I said. “Do please continue.”

“Anyhow, I had no idea but Elizabeth–or Betty, that’s what she likes to be called–Betty is a big-time Archers fan and she got totally into the story, and the next thing you know this dude shows up at my door with the wig and the buckled shoes and the whole nine yards, and hands me a gushy note on her personal stationery asking me to come over and hang out, plus a signed picture and a little brooch shaped like a corgi.”

“What’s a corgi?” asked Harry.

“A dog,” I said.

“Like Augie?”

“Sort of like Augie,” said Dolores, “but half as much dog and twice as much teeth. She collects them. They run around the palace and pee on the carpets. I’d hate to see her cleaning bills.”

“I don’t like how the dogs sound,” said Harry. “But I like how The Queen sounds. Can we go see her?”

“No,” I said. “She’s a very busy lady. But we’re going to visit one of the big houses she lives in, up on a hill at a place called Windsor.”

“Cool,” said Harry. “I mean, jolly good, old chap.”

“We’re almost to Paddington Station,” said Tom. “Finally. How long have we been stuck on this train?”

“Fifteen minutes,” I said.

He glanced at his watch, and sighed.

* * * * *

We were back at Paddington a few days later, bright and early, to catch the train to Slough and connect there with the train to Windsor.

In case you’re planning a visit of your own, be advised that Paddington Station is an absolute nuthouse on weekday morning. The platforms are crowded with Very Important People in expensive suits, dashing around like a startled herd of pinstriped gazelles

Harry was terrified of being kicked onto the tracks, so Dolores picked him up and stuffed him into her handbag until we found our car and settled in for the ride.

On the Train

“I wish you wouldn’t have run so fast,” he huffed as Dolores lifted him, sputtering and disheveled, onto the seat. “You broke some of the cookies.”

“Cookies? What cookies?”

“The ones I brought for the Majesty Lady if she’s at home. You should always bring a little something when you visit somebody’s house so I brought snickerdoodles. If she’s not there I’ll leave them in the hall with a note.”

“Crumbs!” Dolores snapped, peering into the depths of her handbag. “My whole damned bag is full of cookie crumbs! If there are butter stains on my emergency panties swear I’m gonna smack you until you felt!”

“Let’s moderate our voices, shall we?” I said. “Seeing as we’re in England, Land of Hope and Glory and Nice, Hushed Tones?”

“I’m going to take pictures,” said Harry. “Smile, Tom!”

Tom smiled.

Smile, Tom

The journey from London to Windsor is blessedly brief, and minutes after leaving Slough the famous Round Tower of Windsor hove into view.

“Check it out,” I said. “The standard is flying. The Queen’s at home.”

“Whee!” said Harry. “Good thing I remembered the cookies.”

“Calm down,” I said. “It’s not like she’s going to answer the doorbell. If we’re very lucky, we might catch a glimpse of her from a distance.”

“Pish,” sniffed Dolores. “I’ll just let one of her people know I’m here and we can all say hello. If found out I came over and didn’t tell her, she’d be pissed.”

“American pissed or English pissed?” Harry asked.

“American,” said Dolores.

“Righty-ho,” said Harry.

Dolores dropped her name repeatedly¬–to the ticket taker, a tour guide on the North Terrace and a guy pushing a wheelbarrow through the Moat Garden–but to her great surprise we were not immediately ushered into The Presence.

“Her Majesty will wish to see me if you will kindly let her know I’ve arrived,” she said to the guard at the entrance to the exhibit of Queen Mary’s Doll’s House.

“Yes, madam,” said the guard vaguely, “this way, please, and mind the step.”

“That’s Van Hoofen, with a double O.”

“Yes, madam. This way please, so as not to block the doorway.”

Even as royal residences go, Windsor is in a class by itself. Harry was mesmerized–as we all were–by the sight of what can be achieved over the course of one thousand years by scores of artists and architects all pouring themselves into the creation and decoration of one splendid building.

“I wish we could take pictures,” Harry whispered to me as we stood at the door of the Waterloo Room, taking in the colossal portraits of the European leaders who had banded together to defeat Napoleon.

“Me too,” I said.

When we reached St. George’s Hall, an immense banqueting room magnificently restored after the fire of 1992, Harry’s jaw dropped.

“It’s so big! Do you think sometimes The Queen likes to put on her roller skates and come in here and go around and around until she gets dizzy?”

“I hope so,” I said.

Dolores, meanwhile, had buttonholed one a particularly well-shaped guard near the fireplace.

“With a double O,” she was insisting. “We’re friends from my days with the BBC. Listen, gorgeous–if she finds out I was here and nobody bothered to tell her, she’ll start cutting off heads. You know how she gets. And it would be a shame for such a pretty head to end up in a dumpster.”

“Perhaps madam would like to move on to the next room?” said the guard nervously.

“Madam is definitely moving,” I said, grabbing Dolores by the arm. “And I apologize profusely.”

“Not at all,” said the guard, looking relieved.

“When they break both your skinny legs on the rack,” she shouted as I nudged her onward, “don’t come running to me!”

Harry is a stalwart fellow, but by the time we’d crossed the full expanse of the hall and reached the next room, Tom noticed he was rolling a lot slower than usual.

“You feeling okay, Harry?”

“Yup,” Harry said. “But there sure is a lot of floor in this place.”

“Maybe Dolores could give you lift.”

“Nothing doing, bright eyes. The inside of my purse already looks like an explosion at the Little Debbie factory.”

“Please?” Harry begged.

“The young gentleman does seem a trifle peaked,” said yet another guard, stepping forward. “If you’ll pardon my saying so, miss.”

For a moment, their eyes locked. Dolores sized him up, and down. “Cripes–does she handpick all you guys on the basis of a close resemblance to Colin Firth? Or is it just a coincidence?”

The guard blushed and looked at his brightly polished shoes.

“Honey,” she said, stooping to give Harry a gentle pat, “of course you can ride in Auntie Dolores’s purse. Step right in and get comfy cozy, and maybe this handsome specimen of British beef would be kind enough to point out some fine points of the architecture?”

“With pleasure,” said the guard, still blushing. “Over here is a memorial to those who fought the great fire…”

“Pssst. Check it out,” said Tom quietly to me, nodding at a door inside in alcove that had been cordoned off with velvet rope. “The guidebook says it’s the entrance to the private apartments.”

I knew what he was thinking.

“Dolores,” I said, “We really need to get going.”

But she had already spotted the door, and had a determined look on her face.

“Do you smell that?” she whispered, sniffing the air.

“Smell what?” I said.

“White Shoulders. Her perfume. She’s probably right there on the other side.”

“I don’t know what perfume The Queen wears,” said Tom. “But I’m pretty sure it’s not White Shoulders.”

“Oswald,” said Dolores to the guard, “Oswald, sweetheart–to what of fragrance is the boss lady partial?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” said the guard. “Most embarrassing. We’re supposed to be able to answer all questions a visitor may pose.”

“Shucks,” Dolores pouted. “I’d really like to know. See, I’d like to get a bottle of whatever it is myself, and dab it gently on all my tenderest parts when I’m fresh from the bath.”

Oswald turned as scarlet as his coat. “Er, um, well, you know,” he stuttered, “I could ask my friend Eddie–he’s just in the next room–he’s been here heaps longer than I–I’m sure I could find out for you.”

“You do that, lovey,” cooed Dolores, blowing him a kiss.

Oswald disappeared through the door to St. George’s Hall, and Dolores ducked under the velvet rope. I grabbed at her coat, but she was too quick.

“Next room?” said Tom.

“Next room,” I said.

We moved briskly along the designated path, pausing now and again to listen for the alarm bell that would indicate Dolores had come face-to-face with her old pal.

“Do you think The Queen might shoot her?” asked Tom, sounding rather hopeful. “I bet she carries a gun in that purse.”

“She must have people to do that kind of thing for her.”

“If they serve mutton at the next Garter Lunch we’ll know for sure.”

We had reached a room that looked out over The Quadrangle, a large courtyard separating the State and Private Apartments. Tom wandered over to the window and gasped. “Come here! Quick! Corgis!”

Sure enough, a trio of royal dogs was bounding across the emerald-green grass, chasing after a little blue ball.

We had only begun to take in the charming scene when a rapid tapping of hooves and the sound of ragged breathing made us turn around. And there, breathless and panting, was Dolores. Her coat was torn and her open handbag dangled from a shaky hoof.

“So,” said Tom, “How’s Betty?”

“Ha frickity ha ha,” said Dolores. “Before I could get near her those dogs came outta nowhere and lunged at me. Look at my clothes! Shredded! I thought they were gonna eat me alive.”

“If only,” Tom sighed.

“It was like a frigging Merchant-Ivory remake of Wolfen. All brocade and sharp teeth. I threw everything in my purse at them and I still barely got away with both legs.”

“Everything in your purse?”

“Everything. I’m gonna sue the knickers off that woman. I had a brand-new two hundred dollar tube of mascara in there.”

“Dolores,” I said, swallowing a rising sense of panic, “You’re here. Where’s Harry?”

“He was…I just…wait a minute…”

She turned her open bag upside down, dislodging a small cascade of snickerdoodle crumbs.

Out in the courtyard, the corgis began yapping like mad. We turned to the window and saw them still chasing the little blue ball–which was now trying frantically to climb up the wall.

* * * *

That afternoon, on the train back to London, Harry sat quietly on my lap munching a Duchy Originals Oaten Biscuit and pondering a sheet of extremely posh stationery covered with crisp black handwriting.

“Did I tell you that she looks just like she does on the money?”

“Six times,” muttered Dolores.

“And she said she was so sorry about what the dogs did to my old ball band, and she gave me this new one as a present,” he said, puffing up his chest to show off the gilt EIIR emblazoned across the front, just above the washing instructions.

“Do we have to go over this again?” Dolores moaned. “I have a sick headache.”

“Ignore her,” I said. “You look very snazzy. Right royal, in fact.”

“I told her about the snickerdoodles and she said it was too bad the dogs got them because she really likes a good snickerdoodle in the afternoon. Did you know that?”

“I bet they pair well with Dubonnet and gin,” said Tom.

“Fascinating,” said Dolores. “Alert the Times.”

“And she told me I should come back again soon and we can have tea and she’ll introduce me to her yarn. All I have to do is show the doorman in the funny hat this letter, because now my name is on a list.”

“Ain’t that just dandy?” said Dolores.

“Oh,” said Harry. “I asked if I could bring you, Dolores, and she didn’t remember you, but I told her all about you, and spelled your name for her, with a double O. And she put you on a list, too. Except I guess it’s a different kind of list.”

“Harry,” said Dolores, “When we get home I’m going to spit splice you to the tail of Mrs Teitelbaum’s cat.”

Royal Harry

“Righty-ho” said Harry.

83 comments:

Benita said...

My husband and I were there just before the fire in 1992, so you were looking at the restored version of what we saw then.

It sounds like you and Tom had a pleasant trip, but I'll bet Delores is still in a nasty mood.

Shelda said...

Oh my! Umm... thanks.

Marcy said...

I'll bet the vodka consumption has increased.

cate said...

I was just there at the beginning of October! It would have been so much more fun touring the joint with Harry of Sock Yarn.

shyknitter said...

Love it!! Hope more stories are in the works

shyknitter said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Cara said...

Something about that photo of Tom lightened my heart on a gray afternoon. Sounds like you all had fun, well most of you but I'm sure Dolores will bounce back.

Becky said...

Poor Dolores! Sounds like the rest of you had a great time, I take it Harry is happy with his new garb ;)

CaroleH said...

Franklin, sometimes the scope of your imagination is truly frightening.

"I'm gonna smack you until you felt" is my new favorite threat.

Mel said...

Who knew England could be so exciting?

Of course, with Dolores involved....

meezermeowmy said...

Ah, you have restored my faith in the universal tie of "stash". Long live the royal yarn!

Sandy said...

I say! Well Done Harry!

Eileen said...

Did Delores pick up a gin habit while you were there? I hear it's more available than vodka.

Please give Harry my congratulations!

Jo said...

So, more closet Archer's fans in the mid-west then.
dum de dum de dum de dummmm

Anonymous said...

Harry is most handsome in his new ball band.

Thanks for the tale of your adventure! Looking forward to more stories from your trip.

My verification word is uritio. Is that British for hurrah?

Mary-SDKnitter

Paul said...

and Doris got blind on Dubonnet and gin, and scratched her veneer with a Cartier pin...

I couldn't have liked it more.

debd94 said...

Thank you! You made me laugh for the first time in a week (I've had the flu)!

anne marie in philly said...

O...M...F...G...

harry looks adorable! and so does tom!

happy thanksgiving to you all; smooches!

kmkat said...

I love Harry. Just want to snorgle him.

When I was passing through Slough in 1995 I saw a flock of birds doing this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TL8diH-I9EQ

hokgardner said...

Yay for Harry!

JanKnitz said...

Blogs are always an interesting little window into someone else's life, but sometimes a blog is just sublime.

Thanks for the laugh!

And tell Dolores there will be NO spit splicing going on!

Laura said...

It's been a while since we've heard from the 'gang' but well worth the wait. Glad to know that Dolores is up to her usual shenanigans. Pleased to see that Harry survived the corgis - I was worried for a couple of seconds. Tom is as handsome as ever. Hope all is well.

ccr in MA said...

Not just a great story, but one with a knitting punchline, love it!

Alwen said...

"...dashing around like a startled herd of pinstriped gazelles".

Nothing like a nice shout of laughter!

(Verification word: tersient, knowing in advance that one will need to be terse.)

Wendy said...

I loved this story. :)

Yvonne said...

I needed that. I hope you're having a grand old time, and I think it was lovely that Harry got some new, er, duds. ;-)

Kathryn said...

Too cute!

Anonymous, too said...

Harry is such a charmer! It's no wonder he seems to make friends almost everywhere he goes.

What did it take to get Dolores out of her funk? The liquor department at Harrod's? A trip to Harvey Nicks so she could emulate her idol, AbFab's Patsy Stone? Or a trip to a local supermarket to show her all the tins on the shelf labeled "Whiskas Cat Food -- Mutton Flavor"?

Kristen said...

Oh, Harry, I do love you so!

Zelda said...

I'm trying to die laughing as quietly as possible so I don't wake the houseguests...

Gisela Towner said...

I think Dolores may have been better suited to hook up with Patsy and Edwina for some
Stoli-dolis, Darling! :)

GinkgoKnits said...

I always assumed Harry was superwash. Dolores will have a tough time carrying out her threats of felting and spit-splicing if so. I hope Harry realized those were idle threats unlike the real terror of the Corgis' teeth.

Spindlers2 said...

So like the home life of our own dear Queen....

Lilibet - or Brenda, according to our Secret Service.

Sweet Camden Lass said...

I was once given Pimms and Gin and Lemonade at a folk festival. Squiffy doesn't even begin to describe the effect it had on me.... certainly, I didn't care that the journey down had been an eight hour epic coach journey nightmare and the then boyfriend had disappeared and thrown me at the mercy of his morris side for supper. Because I had Pimms and gin and lemonade inside me.

p.s. little book now published. Very happy.

Emily said...

Oh, wow. Just delightful. What a great start to my day! ("Pinstriped gazelles"...I love that one, too.)

Mary Lou said...

Ahem, only queen of PART of the island next door. My grandmother would smack you till you felt. Great travelogue.

Bekky said...

If this was anything to go by the rest of the trip must have been interesting. I laughed so much at all of this, I love the Archers so it was great to see them here! England is cold, windy and grey today but you brightened it imeasurabley, very glad you didn't leave Dolores here though!

Ivywindow said...

Harry is a top banana. I am amazed he wasn't more scarred by the corgis than appears to be the case!

Seanna Lea said...

That's so cute! I love these little stories.

Anonymous said...

amazing story. I wonder how it is possible to be so fond of a ball of sockyarn, without even having met him. There is something about Harry that I adore. There is only one itty bitty problem, because now all my sockyarn wants posh ballbands to, and I cant shut them up
Carolien van Riemsdijk, Haarlem, the Netherlands

Patti said...

Thanks for the lovely story. I was worried about Harry there for a minute!

Elizabeth said...

Smack you till you felt is my new favorite too.

I totally love Harry. I would welcome him into my stash and carry him in my handbag forever. He's such a sweetie, and who doesn't have a soft spot for snickerdoodles?

Terri said...

This post is a perfect example of why I keep coming back to see what's up in Franklin, Tom, Dolores and Harry world.

sara 14 said...

Wow, somehow I never realised that Dolores was in The Archers; but they are having some hard times in Ambridge at the moment, maybe a reprise of her role would be appropriate.
Just a couple of days ago they were trying to get the sheep to wear antlers for the Christmas Pagent. Would she be interested in that?

Linda said...

Awesome story!

Strickmuse said...

Carry on Harry!

Judy G. said...

Harry rocks. Liz knows quality when she sees it.
Um, where the hell does Delores find 200 dollar mascara?

Hannah said...

Franklin, you rock! What a great story teller you are - such a fertile imagination ;>)

Ellen-Mary said...

“It was like a frigging Merchant-Ivory remake of Wolfen" Brilliant line. You tell a good story. Thanks.

Laurie in Mpls. said...

Franklin, your command of language and imagery is fantastic. I think I'm slightly in love. (In a very platonic, totally bibliophilic way.)

To add to my vocabulary:
"...startled herd of pinstriped gazelles"
"smack you tell you felt"
"spit splice you to ______"

Pat Harry for me -- he had quite the adventure. My mum-in-law had/has corgi(s). They are fantastic dogs when they have been properly trained. I've never seen it. *sigh*

Lynn said...

One more thing to be thankful for, today. I laughed so hard that I can now justify a second piece of pie for dessert.

Word verification: "totive": adj, describing a knitter who carries multiple projects with him/her, everywhere he/she goes.

Brenda said...

That was a wonderful story. Just hilarious.

Thank you so much!

janna said...

Of course the Queen would love Harry -- who doesn't? Love the spiffy new ball band!

nutmeg33 said...

You're absolutely priceless, Franklin! The reference to "The Archers" was the icing on the cake! I ♥ you!

Kirk said...

You are a severely warped and twisted individual - keep up the good work ;-)

Maria said...

Franklin, I'm ROTFLMAO - thanks, I needed that!!! Waiting to hear more about the trip. I was thinking, though, if you ever get to Greece it might be a good idea to leave Dolores home...
XOXOXOX

Freakytype said...

what a wonderful story :) Love it!

LauraRose said...

I finally know who Dolores is now. Good luck with her. Harry and Tom both seem quite nice though!

inklenaomi said...

Brilliant! How will Delores top this?

my verification is solitivo, is that watching recorded shows by yourself?

SusieQ100 said...

Hilarious!! I wish I'd been there!!

Christy D. said...

WOW! You have the most exciting vacations ever :) I'm glad Harry was alright after being attacked by the royal Corgis.

This is a great story!!

inklenaomi said...

Dolores. (sigh) apparently I can't spell whilst the family breathes over my shoulder. I suppose I'm on a list now.

IndigoB said...

Your sense of humor is all I need these days in the way of therapy

Amanda Haugland said...

That was marvelous. Top-hole, in fact. Tell darling Harry he can ride in my handbag anytime, especially if he'll introduce me to Her Majesty. I hear she's lovely.

Thanks. :)

FiberQat said...

ROFL! What a delightful post. I'm glad Harry wasn't too badly ruffled up by the corgis.

Sharon Rose said...

I love Windsor... So glad Harry got to make a new friend. Thanks for sharing your adventures with us!

alala said...

Well, I'm so happy for Harry! Tell him he looks terribly spiffy in his new ball band.

Dreamin Diva said...

Enjoyed the story. Glad to read Harry got the recognition he deserves.

Anonymous said...

I am "surprised". I thought Dolores was on 12 months probation (see Lurching to Epiphany).

But good show Harry. He is very handsome in his new outfit. Looks like you and Tom had a good time.

Lisa G. said...

My office mates are surely wondering what on earth is going on in my little cube...what a perfect way to spend lunch, in the UK with Dolores and friends. Pip pip, cheerio!

Laura said...

You are a hoot and a half!

Laura said...

If you ever visit my yarn store, I promise to keep my corgi from "playing" with Harry.

Thanks for a great story.

Rhonda the Stitchingnut said...

I'm so happy for Harry. Sorry Dolores.

DeanB said...

I like the camera angle for the picture of Tom -- certainly a Harry's-eye view. It's attention to details like that which makes the difference.

Anonymous said...

I love this story. Thank you for your amazing story telling and words - I love the words.

I also think your "commenters" are hilarious as well with the definition of the verification words. I laughed out loud at some of them. They are so very clever as are you!
Lu

K said...

You are wonderful--this was fun!
happy holidays!

Kathie said...

Dude, that was brilliant. Thank you. "I’m gonna smack you until you felt!" had me on the floor.

marta said...

I'm catching up on my favorite blogs while on Winter Break. Honest to God, it took a full week to rest up after a term with (insert echo chamber here) THE FIFTH GRADERS. "Incident at Windsor" was just the ticket to smack my sense of humor right back where it belonged...to the point where my daughters threatened to Heimlich me after they ran up to see what all the snorting, wheezing and tearful silent laughter was all about. Thank you!

bleach cosplay said...

Great story,reaaly enjoy to read!

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